


NirnVana, or Vana Through Tamriel

by KD_Bryson



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Fanfiction, Grohlvana - Freeform, Skyrim - Freeform, Videogames, Youtuber - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-07-22 12:31:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7439411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KD_Bryson/pseuds/KD_Bryson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>YouTuber Grohlvana is transported to a very familiar setting... Is this real life, or is it fantasy?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nightmare Unbound

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Grohlvana](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Grohlvana).



> DISCLAIMER:  
> I do NOT own Austin/Grohlvana. Nor do I own SKyrim, and any of the NPCs mentioned in this work. This is purely a work of fiction designed and written to entertain.  
> Thank you!

Austin’s head feels heavy and it hurts as if though someone had split it with an axe. Was this a hangover? Surely he hadn’t imbibed enough for that! Slowly, his dark eyes open to a blurry vision of white and grey.

#

** EARLIER: **

_ “Thank you guys so much for watching!”, Austin says into his microphone rather enthusiastically while smiling at his camera. “Bye-bye.” _

_ Languidly, he stops the video stream with a few clicks of his mouse then sits back in his chair. A yawn sneaks up on him and he stretches his arms up into the air with a groan.  _

_ Ah, another good stream… _

_ Sure, the game crashed and there were one or two trolls in the chat! But over all, it had been fun. He could only imagine what tomorrow’s 24-hour stream would be like. _

_ He stares absently at the half-drained beer bottle sitting on his desk. How many had he had? Four? Five?  _

_ His eyelids feel heavy, but he can’t go to sleep just yet. There’s still so much planning to be done! So much scheduling to figure out! _

_ Austin gets up and grabs the bottle, then trudges towards the kitchen to drop it in the trash can. He’d take one last swig, but the beer had become bitter as it acclimated to room temperature. He may as well be drinking warm floor cleaner. Yuck! _

_ He makes his way back to his room and slumps back down into his chair, leaning his elbows on his desk as he takes care of a few tasks on his computer. A progress bar creeps along on the screen as Austin’s editing software renders yet another video for his YouTube channel. It reaches 99% completion with one second remaining- though, this is the longest second in existence. _

_ Slowly, Austin’s eyes begin to close of their own volition…  _

 

#

Austin shakes his head to clear it and quickly realizes that this was not the best idea. Dizzy and slightly nauseated, he glances at his surroundings and arrives at a few conclusions. 1) His hands are bound; 2) He’s in a wooden cart; and 3) this scenario seems eerily familiar.

“Hey you!”, says the guy across the cart from him, “You’re finally awake.”

“Oh god…”, Austin feels a headache coming on.  _ This isn’t happening! _

“You were trying to cross the border, right?”, the man continues. “Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there.”

“Uh, actually…”, Austin tries to explain his situation but is interrupted by who he knows is Lokir of Rorikstead.

“Damn you Stormcloaks!”, he says. “Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I could've stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell.” He looks at Austin with desperation in his eyes,  “You there... You and me, we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants."

“Mm-hm.”, is all Austin has to say. He’s sat through this scene many times before.

“We’re all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief.”, says the blond Nord across the cart - the one known as Ralof.

“Shut up back there!”, the Imperial soldier driving the cart shouts at the unlucky lot.

Austin tunes out the rest of the dialogue. He’s heard it all a million times before. Yes, he’s sitting next to Ulfric Stormcloak - yes, there’s General Tullius and Elenwen sitting high on their horses.

Vilod. Helgen. Mead with Juniper berries mixed in it… Imperial walls used to make Ralof feel safe… yep! He’d heard it all.

_ This is all a dream,  _ he thinks. It has to be! How else would all this be possible?

_ Watch,  _ his thoughts continue,  _ it’s gonna be one of those dreams where I get to the chopping block and as soon as the axe falls on my neck I’ll sit up in bed - wide awake and scared as fuck. _

Suddenly, the cart comes to a halt and he knows that he’s at the part where he’d usually start designing his character. However, this doesn’t happen when he steps down and Hadvar says:

“You there. Step forward. Who are you?”.

Austin thinks for a moment. Should he give his real name? It’s a dream after all- and a really vivid one at that!

He’s cold, the rough spun rags he’s wearing are starting to make his skin itch something awful, and his tailbone is killing him from all the bumps the wooden cart hit on its way into the city. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say he was  _ actually _ in Skyrim. But that would be ridiculous! Right?

Hadvar clears his throat impatiently, pulling Austin from his musings.

“Huh?”, Austin gives him his full attention and blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. “Oh, uh, Grohlvana. M-my name’s Grohlvana.”  _ Why not? _

The Nord gives him an odd look. The name is weird, even for a fantasy world. “You from Daggerfall, Breton? Fleeing from some court intrigue?”.

“Breton?!”. Grohlvana looks down at himself and touches his face, his beard and short, dark hair in confusion. He felt like himself - surely, Hadvar was making a mistake!

_ Oh. wait…  _ Vana’s hands go to his ears and find that they have a slight point to them.  _ Lovely… _ He could see that this dream was quickly turning into a nightmare.

Hadvar ignores his disgruntled attitude and glances down at the list in his hand. His expression becomes concerned and a bit perplexed, then he turns to his superior.

“Captain, what should we do? He’s not on the list.”, he says.

“Forget the list!”, the Captain barks at him. “He goes to the block!”.

“By your orders, Captain.” Hadvar gives Austin an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. We’ll make sure your remains are returned to HighRock. Follow the Captain, Prisoner.”

Grumbling, Grohlvana follows the rest of the prisoners towards the execution area. Great!  _ I’m a Breton! A freakin’ Breton! _

Couldn’t his brain have come up with something better? Like an Imperial, or a High Elf? Even a Nord would have been fine. But nooo... it had to pick the artsy-fartsy, Elf-Nord cross breed.

He could only hope to the Divines that his brain hadn’t decided to download the animated shout-fart mod as well… 

The sound of steel rings brightly through the chilled air, followed by the sickening squelch of the headman’s axe as it severs Harold’s head. Vana’s attention is quickly drawn back to the present, and an uneasy feeling begins to knot in his chest.  _ What if this isn’t a dream? _

“As fearless in death as he was in life.”, Ralof says, after the jeers and protests of the angry spectators have died down.

“Next, the Breton!”, the Captain’s shrill voice rings out.

There is an odd sound off in the distance. Like thunder, but far more menacing.

“There it is again.”, says Hadvar. “Did you hear that?”.

“I said, next prisoner.”, the Captain insists.

“To the block, prisoner. Nice and easy.” 

Vana feels Hadvar’s hand on his back and his unease turns into terror as he is led towards the headless corpse and the bloodied block. One thing is seeing this in a videogame, where it isn’t real and you know this. Seeing it in person can be a little… disconcerting.

The closer he gets to his final destination, the more he tries to drag his feet in order to delay the inevitable. Eventually, he is pushed down to his knees right next to Harold’s lifeless body. Vana could feel his stomach churn in revolt at the sight of the Nord’s mangled flesh.

But worse was the potent smell of his blood that assaulted his nostrils as he was forced down to lay his neck and face on the wet, slick block. It was like sticking your nose in a jar of pennies and licking a block of salt, all at the same time. This is mainly because the pooled blood in the well where the head goes is seeping into his mouth as he waits for the headman’s axe to come down upon his own neck.

_ Any moment now, I’m going to wake up. I’ve got to wake up! This isn’t real, it can’t be! Come on, wake up! Wake up, damn it! _

Another roar cuts through the air, louder this time, and Grohlvana doesn’t know whether to feel relieved or terrified. He knows that sound. If he doesn’t wake up first, Alduin is gonna swoop down and wreak havoc.

“Dragon!”, someone cries out, and then all hell breaks loose.

There is a loud crack of thunder and the earth quakes, knocking the executioner off his feet. Fire and meteors begin to rain down from the sky, a few landing dangerously close to Vana as he struggles to get up. Heart racing and eyes wide, he looks around frantically as he tries to get his bearings.

“Holy shit!”, he says out loud.  _ Am I going to survive this?  _ He wasn’t so sure this was just a dream anymore.

“Hey, Breton!”, says a familiar voice. “Come on, the gods won’t give us another chance!”.

“Right!”. Vana gives a nod and readily follows Ralof into a tower.

The door shuts behind them, and Grohlvana is grateful that it somehow muffles the sounds of death and destruction outside. But there is no time to waste! Almost immediately, Ralof is rushing him up the tower, only to be pulled back in time to avoid Alduin bringing the stone wall down on his head. Followed by a blast of fire.

One guy wasn’t so lucky. Austin stares at the charred pile of rubble in disbelief. That guy had been alive not two seconds prior. Now he was probably nothing more than a blackened corpse, crushed beneath the stones.

“See the inn on the other side?”, Ralof asks, pointing out of the newly made opening.

“Yeah.”, Vana nods. He knows exactly what to do.

“Jump through the roof and keep going!”

The question is: will he actually make it?

“Well”, he mutters to himself. “There’s only one way to find out.”

Vana takes a few steps back before sprinting towards the edge and taking the leap. He shuts his eyes and braces himself for impact with the earth far below his feet. Fortunately, he lands with a thud on the dilapidated wooden planks of the inn’s second floor.

With a grunt he forces himself up to his feet, wincing when he puts full weight on his right ankle. He must have landed wrong, but there was no time to dwell on the pain. He had to keep moving!

Without thinking, he jumped down to the first level and caught up with Hadvar as he and another soldier did their best to get a young boy to safety.

“Still alive prisoner?”, Hadvar asks. “Keep close to me if you want to stay that way…”

The rest is a bit of a blur. Vana remembers following Hadvar into Helgen Keep and taking for himself some of the gear available in what used to be soldiers’ barracks. After that, all he could think was “Stay alive”.

What he’d once considered to be nothing more than a boring tutunnel left him shaken and exhausted. No sooner had he and Hadvar made it out on the other side and Vana collapsed to his knees in the snow. He stares down at the blood-stained Imperial sword in his trembling hand and begins to laugh.

It’s a soft chuckle at first but it soon grows into a torrent of crazy laughter that eventually has him break down into tears. All he can think is,  _ HOLY SHIT! I’m alive. I actually made it out alive. _

All the NPCs he’d once killed so nonchalantly, now their agonizing faces haunted him. But it had been a matter of survival,  of life and death.  _ It was you or me, buddy…  _

 

And all those times he made fun of how easy it was to kill frostbite spiders had finally caught up with him. He hadn’t really known true terror and disgust until he’d been face to face with those rows of beady black eyes. Struggling against those giant, hairy legs while a pair of venom-dripping fangs threatened to skewer him and had actually managed to graze his arm.

It burned. The way your hand does when you hold an ice cube for too long. Vana glanced down at his wounded arm and groaned.

He feels a hand settle on his shoulder, but it doesn’t really register.

“Hey!”, Hadvar leans down to look at him. “Are you going to be al right?”.

Vana doesn’t reply, he just keeps breathing the same broken laugh. He stares vacantly ahead of him, past Hadvar, at the blue and white horizon that’s starting to blur and darken.

Concerned, Hadvar grabs both his shoulders and begins to shake him. “Hey! Snap out of it, Grohlvana!”.

#

Austin’s eyes snap open and he sits up in his chair, suddenly feeling very alert.  _ It  _ **_was_ ** _ just a dream! _

“Oh, thank god!”, he sighs and runs his hands back through his hair in relief. He glances about his room and takes notice of how bright the space seems, so he grabs his phone to check the time.

11:33

“Oh, Shit!”, he says and quickly rushes to action.

He hastily straightens out his room and his desk, and himself. Occasionally he steals glances at his phone, knowing that he’s racing against the clock and that he’s still got a ton of things to do. He goes about the apartment, tending to any last minute things.

Finally, 11:55 rolls around and Austin has no choice but to sit down at his computer. It’s time to start the stream. He quickly pulls up Twitch and logs in, but he can’t seem to concentrate with the events of last night still fresh in his mind. 

Had it really been just a dream? He… couldn’t be sure.

For as he stared at his screen in hesitation, his thumb kept brushing nervously over a sore, red welt on his left forearm… 

###

 


	2. Calm Before the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Austin (Grohlvana) is thrown back into the world of Nirn...  
> and after a stressful escape from Helgen, he seems to have finally found some well-deserved peace.  
> But how long will it last?

Another successful stream, Austin thinks to himself as he settles into his bed for the night. There were a few trolls, but nothing his Mod-Squad couldn't handle. He found it almost hard to believe he'd actually reached - and in fact, surpassed - 7,000 followers.

7,000... wow! Who would have ever guessed, when he first started this gig, that he would ever even reach 100? To say he was pleased was a severe understatement.

Life is good - no, life is MORE than good. He has a beautiful and Intelligent girlfriend, he plays video games for a living, and his fans are some of the most amazing human beings on the planet. He's living the dream!

Still, as he pulls his sheets up to his chin and turns over on his side to get comfortable, he can't help but take notice of something he hasn't thought of in over three months. He presses his hand over a spot on his left forearm and winces at the discomfort.

"That's weird.", he says to himself. It didn't really hurt, it was more of a cold, prickling sensation that seemed to come and go.

"I probably pinched a nerve, or something.", he mumbles and decides that he's too tired to worry about it.

So, adjusting his pillow a bit, Austin closes his eyes and allows himself to finally drift into blissful sleep.

#

 

Ice cold - that's what he feels. Vana pushes himself up from the crunchy surface he's been laying on - face down - and it quickly crumbles and sinks under his weight. He stumbles a bit as he gets to his feet and compulsively shakes the cold, white powder clinging to his hair and clothes.

"Where am I?", he asks and then looks around to find himself in eerily familiar territory. Overcast skies, tall mountains, evergreen trees, and snow as far as the eye can see.

"Aw God, not this again!", he says and groans.

Someone comes near him and places a hand on his shoulder. Vana turns his attention to them and is greeted by Hadvar's concerned expression.

"Are you alright?", he asks. "I thought I should give you some space. You looked as though you down-right lost your mind."

"I'm fine.", says Vana, "I think..." He sighs and rubs at his eyes. The glare was terrible! _I guess that's why they call it snow blind…_

Hadvar gives him one last look, then says, "It's probably best if we split up. Good luck! I couldn't have made it without your help today."

"Okay... uh, no problem.", says Vana.

He's never been too keen on having followers in the game, but now that he finds himself stuck in this world he's not so sure. He watches as the nord begins to trudge away in the opposite direction.

"Wait!", Vana calls out and follows after him with considerable effort.

Deep snow is hard to walk through, especially when wearing Imperial armor. Not to mention the heavy iron sword hanging from his hip. When he finally catches up to Hadvar he's completely out of breath.

"Ah, I'm glad you decided to come with me.", said the Nord. "Closest town to here is Riverwood, my Uncle's the blacksmith there, I'm sure he'll help you out."

The two men walk together up the road, not really saying much to one another. Gradually, the snow cover gives way to lush green grass and a myriad of flowers. Vana can't help but marvel at the sheer beauty of Nirn.

The moment is short lived, however, for as they round a turn in the road both are met by the sounds of growls and barking. Hadvar is quick to draw his blade and sends one of the attacking wolves flying back several feet. Unfortunately, Vana's reflexes aren't as sharp.

Desperately, he struggles to draw his sword while attempting to shake off the large, black wolf that has sunk it's teeth into his leather brace.

He screams and at once gives up on drawing his sword. Instead, he resorts to punching the beast with his bare fist. He gets a few strikes in, but it won't let go!

Suddenly, the creature yelps and falls to the ground, lifeless. Its black fur slick with blood. Vana watches as Hadvar shakes the blood off his sword before returning it to its sheathe.

"Thanks.", says Vana, holding his wrist. It feels bruised, but nothing worse than that. "Guess I'm not very good at this whole fighting thing.

Hadvar gives him a weary smile. "I know something that could help you.", he says.

He gestures for Vana to follow him.

The two men continue down the road and arrive to a clearing on their left where three tall stones sit in a circle. Each one has an etching and a hollowed out circle near the top. As they get closer, the air around the stones seems to hum with magical energy.

"These are the Guardian Stones", says Hadvar, "three of the thirteen ancient standing stones that dot Skyrim's landscape."

Vana approaches the stones and steps into the circle, taking his time to study the etching on each of them. The Thief, the Mage, and the Warrior surround him, each giving off its own unique aura. Suddenly, the importance of his next decision dawns on him.

What ever stone he picks, he was going to be stuck with it until he found a better one. Like the Lover stone. That is, if he even survives long enough to find it.

He places his hand on the Thief stone and shudders. Its effects swirl around him, raise his skin in goosebumps and caress his mind with shadowy tendrils. At that moment, he feels cunning and shrouded in mystery - as if the stone were giving him a taste of the power it offered.

Reeling from the experience, Vana takes a step back and allows himself a moment for the thrill to wear off. Who knew this is what your character felt every time you check the effects of a standing stone? He could only imagine what the other two stones would do to him.

Next is the Mage stone. Knowing now that each monument will have an effect on him, he touches his hand to this one cautiously.

Through his fingertips and up his arm rushes a surge of energy that makes each of his hairs stand on end. He lets out a gasp as this feeling takes hold of his entire body and works its way up to his brain.

In that moment, his eyes are wide open and his mind is wide awake. Every force acting upon this world is visible and tangible to him. Everything seems malleable to his will.

_Such power!_

Reluctantly, Vana removes his hand and steps away from the Mage stone. He is suddenly aware that Hadvar is watching him, waiting patiently for him to make up his mind. He looks over his shoulder at the Nord and gives him a nervous smile.

"Sorry", he says.

Hadvar shakes his head and chuckles. "It's not a decision one makes lightly.", he replies. " I understand."

All that remains now is the Warrior stone.

At first, when he places his hand on its cool, rough surface he feels nothing. Then his heart begins to race and an excitement wells in his chest, too large to contain. What the fuck was going on?

Every muscle in his body sings with a new-found strength and vitality - unlike anything he's ever felt before. It's exhilarating and he's sure that he could take on the entirety of Tamriel right about now.

But that is illogical - that was the Stone talking.

Reluctantly, he steps away from the monolith and sighs. Well, he knows he's no warrior, and while the prospect of magical power is tempting - he would prefer to avoid conflict altogether. So...

He turns to his left and places his hands on the Thief stone. For now, this is his best chance at surviving long enough to find a better one.

"Thief, eh?", says Hadvar. "It's never too late to take charge of your own fate, you know."

"Yeah...", Vana replies bashfully, "This will have to do for now."

The Nord gives him an odd look, bus says nothing. In silence, the two continue their journey down the cobblestone road - with Vana picking a few mountain flowers along the way. At length, they arrive at the tall, open gate of Riverwood.

At the sight of his uncle, Alvor, Hadvar sprints ahead to meet him.

Vana lags behind, taking in the sights and sounds of the quaint little village. To his left, he can hear the cogs of the woodmill turning as, no doubt, Gerdur or her husband feeds another log to the saw. There is also the sound of woodchopping - and that is, of course, being done by Faendal.

"A dragon! I saw a dragon!", a shrill, withered voice breaks him from his musings.

"What?", says a young man. "What is it now, Mother?".

Grohlvana doesn't hang around to hear the rest of the interaction. "Yes, yes", he thinks, "It will kill us all, and then you'll believe her, Sven." He jogs the rest of the way to Alvor's house and meets him and Hadvar at the doorstep.

"Shh.. Uncle, please. Keep your voice down. I'm fine. But we should go inside to talk.", says Hadvar in a hushed voice.

"What's going on? And who's this?", asks his uncle.

"He's a friend. Saved my life in fac-".

"I did?", Vana interrupts him.

Hadvar sighs. "Yes... Now come on, I'll explain everything, but we need to go inside."

"Okay, okay. Come inside", says Alvor. "Sigrid will get you something to eat and you can tell us what happened."

The three men enter the house - a cozy den with a few beds, a fire and small table. Here, Hadvar takes a seat and rests his head in his hands. The man looks about as weary as Vana feels.

"Sigrid! We have company!", the blacksmith announces and takes a seat opposite his nephew. "Now, then, boy. What's the big mystery? What are you doing here, looking like you lost an argument with a cave bear?"

Hadvar looks up at his uncle. "I don't know where to start", he says. "You know I was assigned to General Tullius's guard."

"Yes", replies his uncle. "What happened?".

"We were stopped in Helgen when we were attacked... by a dragon."

"A dragon?". Alvor huffs a laugh. "That's... ridiculous." He narrows his eyes at his nephew. "You aren't drunk, are you boy?".

"Mara's mercy!", Sigrid - Alvor's wife - cries out. "A dragon... in Helgen? Why, it could be here at any moment!".

Grohlvana sits quietly at the table as these characters he knows so well discuss the events of earlier. It felt so surreal to see them, not as NPCs-- but as people. Living, breathing, and NOT composed of meshes and textures.

He stands by the table, only half listening to the conversation. He is too busy taking in every detail -- the warmth and crackling of the fire, the smell of the Stew simmering away in a little iron pot. Over the fireplace there sat the head of a boar--no doubt some beast felled on a hunting trip by Hadvar's uncle himself.

There are little bundles of herbs hanging in the corners, lending to the air a scent of earthy freshness. Grohlvana can see the touch of the woman of the house here and there---flowers on the table, fresh linens on the little bed in the corner. This little hut looks like a home, and it makes him sorely miss his own.

"Of course!", Alvor's voice snaps him out of his thoughts. "Any friend of Hadvar's is a friend of mine. I'm glad to help however I can."

Grohlvana blinks at him, and it takes him a moment to register what's happening. Sigrid places a plate of food before him and hands him a change of clothes as well as a small glass bottle containing a strange liquid that could only be some type of potion.

"It's a healing potion, dear", says Sigrid with a smile. "You look like you need it."

"Thanks." Vana returns the smile and uncorks the potion.

Much like in the game, the substance is red. The scent is slightly fragrant, but predominantly mealy and earthy. He brings the bottle to his lips and takes a sip.

Immediately, he wants nothing more than to spit it out. Ugh! It tastes of flat beer and dirt!

"Well...", he thinks, "At least it doesn't taste like that chili beer Kadecin makes me drink all the time."

And with that thought, Vana downs the rest of the contents. Making faces and gagging every few gulps. But this is medicine, and medicine is not supposed to taste good.

As he drinks this terrible concoction, he can't help but notice a warming feeling spread from his throat down and out to the rest of his body. It's faint at first, but soon his skin feels hot and begins to tingle as the potion does its job. Every cut, scrape and bruise soon closes and disappears from his body.

The rest of the day is spent helping out around the house and getting some much-needed rest. After a supper of beef stew, cheese and bread, a bed roll was spread out for Austin in the lower room.

“Thanks.”, he says to Sigrid with a smile. His hostess replies with a smile of her own and then retreats up the stairs to join Alvor.

Austin looks at his makeshift bed for a moment and sighs. _If I go to sleep in this world, will I wake up back in my own?_ He shrugs and crawls into what is essentially a fur-lined sleeping bag. _Oh well, it’s worth a try…_

 

###

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to update; I've been very busy as of late


End file.
